Lunatic Fringe
by Renny Autumn
Summary: The name Harley Quinn is nearly as famous as her sociopathic boyfriend's. In Gotham, only a few remember the time when she was merely Harleen Quinzel, an aspiring psychiatrist and gymnast. But what exactly pushed Harleen into becoming the Joker's accomplice?


Chapter One: Born Wicked

*Author's Note: I do not own Harley Quinn or any of the other DC characters who might appear in this story. This is merely a work of fiction...fanfiction to be precise.*

 _"Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?" - Galinda, Wicked_

"Congratulations! It's a girl."

Sharon heard the words, but was too pissed off to respond to them. That dick still hadn't shown up, and he probably never would. Once again, she'd be forced to take care of things herself.

Oh well, at least the damn kid was born already-and a girl to boot. Harry would just _love_ that. Sharon tried to put a happy smile on her face as the nurse handed her the baby. The little thing just pursed her lips and scrunched up her face at her mother.

Sharon prayed that it wouldn't start squalling for food anytime soon. She'd had just about all she could take. But the little girl just contentedly lay in her mother's arms, unaware of the resentment that was already brewing in her mother's heart for her. She began to sleep peacefully, prompting praise from the nurse.

"Oh, what a little sweetheart you have there. Do you have a name picked out for her, Mrs. Quinzel?"

"Harleen."

As Sharon spoke the name, the little brat opened her mouth and let out a soul-ripping screech and shot her bright blue eyes open. Sharon glared at the banshee that she'd just delivered before holding her out to the nurse. The nurse quickly grabbed the baby before apologizing to Sharon.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Quinzel. I'll see if I can get her to calm down, and then maybe we can feed her."

As the nurse cooed and cuddled with the infant, Sharon tapped her fingers on the edge of the bed, counting the minutes until it shut up. It took 15 minutes for the baby to quiet herself. Sharon counted. All too soon, the baby was back in her mother's unwilling arms, cooing softly. Sharon shook her head at the thing, and rolled her eyes before she spoke to her daughter.

"Puddin, you'll be the death of me, won't you?"

By the time Harleen was five, she knew 5 things to be absolute truth. 1. Santa Claus didn't exist, otherwise he would have brought her that dolly that she desperately wanted. 2. Always be nice to the teacher-lady because the teacher -lady might let her read aloud during story time. 3. Mommy should never be interrupted when her "love shows" were on television. 4. Never share her candy with Barry. He'd eat all of it, and mommy would not yell at him or punish him. 5. Daddy was a very bad man and she should never make him angry.

It wasn't easy to be the child of one of Gotham's crime bosses, but Harleen managed to preserve some semblance of a childhood in her tiny Brooklyn home. For the most part, her father ignored her, but on special occasions, he let her go to work with him.

Today was a _very_ special occasion, indeed.

Daddy was going to meet with some of the people he worked with. While he worked, Harley was supposed to wait in the toy section of the store and pick out everything she wanted for Christmas. Daddy told her to put everything in a big pile right in the middle of the section, and ask the people at the store to get her the biggest, bestest presents she wanted.

Harleen was certain that she could do that.

When Daddy dropped her off in the toy section, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a wink. She waved goodbye to him, but he was already walking away. She turned around and started thinking about which toys she wanted. There were just so many to choose from.

Obviously, she went for those dollies that she saw on television _first._ As her small pile began to grow larger with every passing minute, more store employees came over to the toy section and frowned at the little girl, whispering to each other with every toy placed upon it. None of the employees asked her what she was doing, at least not until she began climbing the shelves to get to the "pop" guns.

"Honey, stop. Please don't climb on that. It's not safe. You might fall."

Harleen smiled cheekily at the employee and jumped to a different shelf. Mere words would not be enough to stop her from getting that toy gun. Maybe if she had it, Barry would be too scared of her to steal her stuff. Babies were _so_ annoying.

She quickly scaled the shelf, grabbed the toy, and jumped down gracefully before the employee was able to say another word. The mob of employees watched her, some with annoyed expressions, and some with amazed glances at each other. Harleen just smiled at them as she placed the gun on the pile. She was always good at climbing things, much to her mother's dismay. She practiced on the trees in her backyard, imitating the squirrels that lived in the big hollow in the middle.

Soon, the manager of the store came shuffling through the crowd of employees. He did not look pleased when he saw the small girl running to and fro, grabbing whatever she could get her hands on and tossing it on the pile. He made a motion for the assistant manager to block the girl, effectively trapping her between her pile and the other shelves. He spoke sternly, hoping to scare the brat into behaving.

"Stop that now! Where are your parents?"

Harleen knew she was in trouble now, kinda like when the teacher lady got mad at her for climbing on the big tree outside during recess. She knew the best option she had for getting out of trouble was to cry, but she didn't think she needed to use that trick yet. Hmm...maybe this guy would fall for the old "act important" trick that daddy taught her. She scrunched her nose up at the man and gave him a sour face.

"My daddy will be angry that you're interrupting me. He told me to pick all the best presents in the store so that we could give them to the children who don't have families."

So she told a little white lie. Eh, who cared anyway? It's not like the manager man would check up on her and daddy to see if they actually gave them to the other little kids. Well...maybe she _would_ give at least _one_ of the toys to a homeless kid. She knew how to share. The man gave her an incredulous look and shook his head before leaning down closer to Harleen.

"I think that I might be angry with your father for allowing you to make a mess in my store during my busiest time of the year. Who exactly _is_ your father, young lady?"

Before Harleen could even respond, she heard her mother's high heels clicking on the tile floor, heading straight in their direction. Harleen shrunk down when she heard them, and the manager turned to look at who could make the little brat cower in such a way. His surprise and awe was apparent as soon as she pushed her way through the crowd.

Though she was not as lovely as she had been in her twenties, Sharon Quinzel was still a sight to behold. Her long blond hair was curled into silky rings that framed her delicate oval face and her bright green eyes were smartly set off by a light application of makeup that emphasized her high cheekbones and petite nose.

But it wasn't just her lovely face that made everyone stare at her. She was simply breathtaking in a long black dress that hugged the curves that child-bearing had given her. Around her shoulders was draped a white fur coat that was embedded with crystals that shimmered every time she took a breath.

Even Harleen was in awe of how beautiful mommy looked in her "fancy dress." She knew that mommy only wore it on the rare occasions that daddy was going to take her to dinner. It meant that Harleen and Barry would be left in the care of their annoying next door neighbor Mrs. Tompkins.

At the sight of the toy pile, Sharon sighed deeply, sending reflective sparkles dancing on the employees who were near her. She then transformed her face into that of an avenging angel's and turned to face both Harleen and the manager. Both the large man and the small child visibly cringed at her harsh gaze before she began to chastise the two of them.

"What on earth is going on here? Harleen? Who are you sir and what do you want with my child?"

"Um, excuse me ma'am. Your daughter was climbing on our shelves and creating a mess in our toy department."

Sharon glanced at Harleen, who was working on deploying "Plan B (or rather "C" for "crying")", and grabbed the small child's hand, pulling her closer to her own body.

"Excuse me sir, but my child was instructed to gather these toys by her father."

Harleen sharply glanced up at her mother, surprised that her mother's story matched perfectly with her own lie. Sharon glowered at the man, who began to search for any response he could think of.

"Well, ma'am. I understand that her father wanted her to gather the toys, but your child has created a walking hazard in our toy section and could have seriously injured herself while climbing on our shelves."

Harleen wasn't sure what prompted her to do so, but she escaped from her mother's grasp and ran to the nearest shelf before quickly scurrying to the top. Later, she would tell herself that she wanted to prove the manager man wrong about whether or not she would hurt herself. She then jumped from one shelf to another, effortlessly sailing through the air and gracefully landing.

Her mother, angered that Harleen was causing another scene, held her hand up to the manager, who was poised to pounce, and walked over to the shelf that Harleen was on top of. She gave the child an unusual sign that none of the employees knew the meaning of and waited for the child to respond. The girl hung her head and jumped down from the shelf, doing a flip before landing on her feet like a cat.

Truly, the girl was talented, but the store manager had had just about enough of the little gymnast. He briskly walked over to where the child and her mother stood before puffing his chest out to them.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you and your child to leave our store."

Sharon grabbed Harleen's hand for the second time and gathered up her own dignity before responding.

"Don't worry. We won't ever return to this store again. It's a shame that you'll miss out on such a massive sale. But I guess that's what you get when you are so rude to your customers."

She pulled Harleen through the mass of employees and marched toward the door. Harleen helplessly gazed back at the pile that she had spent time creating. Goodbye, dollies. Goodbye, pop gun. Goodbye Christmas presents.

Harleen tried not to cry as mommy pulled her through the front door. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and blinked to make them stop. Mommy wouldn't like it if she cried. She'd just get in trouble again. Sharon stopped on the sidewalk outside of the building and walked toward the phonebook next to the door.

While she made her phone call, Harleen watched the traffic in the street. As she was counting the number of taxis stopped at the red light, Harleen saw a limo pull up at the curb in front of them. She knew that someone important had to be there, so she carefully leaned up against the building and pretended to look disinterested in what was happening.

A tall man in a business suit was the first to step out of the limousine, followed closely by a woman in a long beige coat and a small boy who looked to be about her age. Harleen watched them in utter fascination as people on the street began to take photos of the three as they walked into the department store.

As she watched them be greeted by some of the employees, Harleen heard an all too familiar sound pierce the air. Her head swiveled as she heard the sirens, and she rushed over to where her mother stood, burying her face in her mother's fur coat. She hoped that daddy would be okay. Her mother gently patted her head, but pulled her face from the fur coat. Sharon hung up the phone and picked up the business card that had caught her eye in the phone booth. She grabbed Harleen's hand once more and began to walk away from the store. As the sirens grew closer, Harleen looked behind them and watched as dozens of policemen jumped out of their cars and rushed into the store. She wondered why all the policemen were rushing to get to the store. She wondered if something had happened to the important people. Sharon tugged on her hand and Harleen shifted her gaze to what was in front of her. Sharon cleared her throat and looked down on the small girl beside her, smiling widely.

"Harleen, how would you like to take gymnastics lessons?"

Harleen shrugged, still pondering what had happened at the store. Sharon's head, meanwhile was filled with the thought of Harleen as a gymnastics world champion. She didn't notice her daughter's preoccupation, and Harleen's lukewarm response to her question wouldn't have changed her mind anyway.

As they walked toward home, Harleen kept glancing back in the direction of the store, hoping someone would walk by with information about what had happened.

It wouldn't be until the next day that Harleen finally heard the news. As her mommy made breakfast, Harleen flipped through the channels until she found a news channel. She had to wait a few moments while the newscasters talked about the weather, but soon they came to their top story of the morning.

The department store had been robbed.


End file.
